The Years
by typewriterkindaguy
Summary: Response to a forum post in which the authors were to create a post-hogwarts parody in which Harry did not wed Ginny. My attempt: "I will never be able to take away all those years of mean hurtful things we've said to each other" -Harry. . .
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: The Wedding of The Century**

**Told from the view of Hermione Weasley née Granger:**

Everyone, including myself, thought that Harry James Potter was going to marry Ginny Weasley; they had been Hogwarts sweethearts and had struggled with the duration of the battle. However, as the afternoon chime of the church bells rang out that September morning, it was clear to I, and everyone else, that this was not to be so.

Earlier that afternoon there was a wedding at a chapel in London; it would appear to be a muggle affair. Ron, my husband for a little over three years, and I, stood beside Harry as he took the solemn vow of marriage, though I was acting as the officiator at the request of the marrying couple. The lucky other was his childhood nemesis and our biggest pain in the ass at school; Draco Malfoy.

I watched teary eyed as Harry and Draco exchanged vows that each had written for and about each other. Harry's words, the works of the mousy haired boy turned man by the war read like those of a romantic poet.

"Draco, I love you with as much of my heart as possible. I vow to spend the rest of my life with you. I vow to be your better half whether it comes out to a bad head or a good result. I wish now, that I would've gotten to know you better when we were in school. Though I know that we will spend our lives together within the same dwelling, hopefully raising a child with our own ideologies and principles, I will never be able to take away all those years of mean hurtful things we've said to each other."

Harry looked stunning; for once in his life he donned a tuxedo and had fought valiantly to manage his tangled mess of hair. Draco, on the other hand looked, abnormally down-to-earth as he stood at the altar gazing lovingly into Harry's eyes, dressed in a grey tuxedo that was not the right shade of grey to overshadow his eyes. Pinned to each boy's lapel was the badge of their respective housing from our years at Hogwarts; the silver on Draco's lapel complimented Harry's emerald green eyes, as the scarlet of Gryffindor house that so adorned Harry's lapel complimented the icy grey sheen of Draco's eyes.

Draco's vows were no less poetic, and no less romantic. Though he did arguably have the mind of a poet; compared to Harry. Draco read aloud; I know that there wasn't a dry eye in the house as Draco finished his lines. I was on the verge of tears myself as I began the second part of my speech. I was there to make the marriage of my best friend and biggest enemy official.

"Can we have the rings please?" I asked as I looked towards the crowd, at the little ring boy; my son of all three-feet, crowned in Ron's red hair, came strolling up the aisle.

My son, who was also the ring boy, approached the altar. In his hands rested a plush pillow made of the blackest and cleanest felt embroidered with maroon, gold, green, and silver threads on which rested two of the grandest and oldest looking rings I could possibly have ever imagined seeing. The rings themselves were relics of Draco's family and I had helped Draco pick them. The stone of each ring was blood red, as anything that was made out of blood would be. The bands themselves were not a metal, like my own and the Muggles' gold and silver bands were. Instead the bands of these rings, in which the crystallized blood stones were inlaid, were made of strands of tightly woven Unicorn hair.

Taking the rings from the pillow, one in each grooms trembling hand, I began the "Draco, do you swear in front of thy witnesses, and thy family to take this man to be yours lawfully wedded husband for as long as you both shall live. In sickness and in health, in peace and in tragedy, in prosperity and in hard-times for as long as the two of you shall be intertwined in the great circle of life?"

"I do." Draco's voice crackled with unease and nervousness.

"Harry, do you swear in front of thy witnesses and thy family to take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband for as long as you both shall live. In sickness and in health, in peace and in tragedy, in prosperity and in hard-times for as long as the two of you shall be intertwined in the great circle of life?"

"I do." Harry's voice vowed determinedly, neither a sign or anxiety nor unease.

"Place thy ring on thy groom, now."

Each boy stuck out his hand to the other, pushing the rings onto the other's finger with their vow to each other in mind.

"Harry and -Draco -Keep in mind, that if you hurt him Malfoy, I'll hunt you down myself - I now pronounce you husband and husband. Each may now bestow a kiss upon the other as commemoration of this event."

The orchestra seated above us in a balcony began to play as the crowd went up with cheers, and the grooms walked down the aisle in unison holding each other's hand. The attendees and I waited until they had left the building before leaving the hall. I went to the back of the church, taking off the robe I was forced to wear since the blasted thing had been cutting at my throat all morning. Ron greeted me as I was slipping into a cheerfully elegant low-cut black dress laced with maroon and green lace latent with silver and gold buttons. Ron wore his suit, the only other times I had seen him in a suit were at his brother's funeral and at our own wedding.

I smiled at my husband, "Beautiful wedding today wasn't it Hun?"

He admittedly opposed the wedding, detested the idea of Harry, his best friend, wed to Draco Malfoy, our number one enemy while at school. Ron did not oppose the marriage because of the couple's sexual orientation though, despite the way he had acted when Harry had come over for brunch one day shortly after I'd had my son Hugo. Hugo had sat on my chest as I nursed him, it was just nature and I had known for a while about Harry, Ron had been uneasy by the nursing though, as would be expected of a newly married couple.

Harry, Ron, Hugo, and I were sat around the table in Ron and I's somewhat spacious dining room. Ron was amidst cutting a small game hen that his mother had sent from home -which was uncooked; though I soon fixed that and I fixed it all too well most of the birds skin had been blackened like charcoal- when Harry dropped the bomb. Ron had nearly sliced his fingers off with a sudden jerk of the knife.

I understood why Ron had acted as rashly as he proceeded to yell at Harry; though Ron went too far by trying to jinx him which despite the baby latched to my breast, I quickly put an end to. Within a short while, about two weeks, Ron apologized to Harry for acting so bastardly. Ron claimed that the whole thing had caught him by surprise and he was upset that Harry would not have children, and his children and our children wouldn't go to Hogwarts and be a pack, a second Golden-trio if you may.

Ron had acted a little more civilized when Harry had Ron and me over for dinner one night at his house (formerly that of Sirius Black), and Harry had dropped yet another bomb on us. Ron and I acted as politely as each of us could muster. I was near ready to kill someone though; just the thought of Harry with Draco had me upset for a long while. At the end of the night, in the privacy of the den, I offered Harry a friendly word of advice.

"Harry, please be careful, please don't get hurt. I don't care if it's Draco, but please don't let him hurt you."

Okay, I know. I didn't offer him a word of advice I begged him. Ron, who had been in the bathroom stepped in through the open door. He'd asked me to allow him and Harry a moment of privacy, of which I imagine Ron, spent trying not to yell or speak too loudly as for me to overhear, and then we wished Harry goodnight and left. 

* * *

Thank Yous: VenustusLovesJames My good friend and beta for this story. You guys should head over to her page and read her material, she writes the same as I do.  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry guys and ladies, for the long wait. I decided to read through the parts I had posted here for this story, and it did not exceed or even meet my expectations. It's up now and has been checked multiple times for errors! Read on and prosper! ~~ Roger


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: The Day My Heart Sank

Told By: Draco Potter-Malfoy

I was sitting in the library, on the third floor of mine and Harry's house, the one that belonged to my mother's cousins the Black's. After much and many renovations, Harry and I had made the house once again suitable for habitation and dwelling. The walls of the hallway, once painted black by years of filth and grime, were now a pleasing shade of light violet accented with recessed lighting. I admit I played a bigger part in the redecorating than my husband had, though in contrast to stereotype, he said that he loved what I had done with the place.

The kitchen had been redone entirely; Kreacher's den that had been in a cupboard, at the request of Harry was moved to Regulus's bedroom upstairs. Though Kreacher would have some struggles climbing the stairs and disapparating was common - to which I wished to get another house-elf, but under Harry's terms. The day after we had found Kreacher's lifeless body in the bed of his second favorite master's bedroom, Harry and I took the body of the humble and meek servant that had been serving the Black family for all of his life, to a secluded area I didn't know existed, dug a hole about three-feet long and about five-feet deep. The next evening, Harry called me down to the kitchen; I'd been upstairs cleaning Kreacher's previous room.

"Yes Harry?"

"I know you wanted to get a new house-elf, but would you settle for a live in human?"

"You mean a butler?"

"Not really a butler, but a paid cook-maid." Harry looked at me as if asking a question though he'd made a statement.

I nodded in response.

"Then I'd like you to meet our new cook-maid, at least for the time being. Gabrielle Delacour."

I knew I'd heard that name somewhere before, but could not place her. And then it hit me, our fourth year at Hogwarts, the Tri-Wizard Tournament, her sister or someone bearing the same name; Fleur Delacour.

"Harry, is that not Fleur's sister?" I had asked.

"It is."

The girl smiled at me, her blond hair was like my own, though longer. Her piercing blue eyes looked old, though she wasn't more than 19 years of age.

"She can cook and clean?" I asked, sounding like I distrusted her capability.

"Yes."

"Okay, we can employ her for as long as need-be."

"It's only temporary Drake, she was looking for a place to stay and a job until she can get on her feet."

With that a few months passed on a drearily cold Saturday evening, after I'd returned home from my work at the Ministry. I was in my study (Harry graciously devoted a room to me) and I heard a hellish shriek in a foreign language. I knew it had to Gabrielle, she was the only one home, or at least the only with that voice. I ran from my den, finding her standing in the doorway, the door open her eyes staring at the stoop. I ran down the hall, joining her at the door I looked down on to the sidewalk below. There lay my husband panting heavily, bleeding profusely, and what appeared to be dying right before my eyes.

First thought, St. Mungo's. Picturing the entrance of the wards in my head as I grabbed Harry's hand, with the snap of disapparation, we appeared on the walk in front of the hospital. I levitated his body, through the doors.

"Help! Somebody HELP!" I barked as my husband of nearly seven-years grew paler and paler.

Emerging from a door at the end of the hall that stood before me were two people, dressed in muggle hospital scrubs. They rushed down the hall towards me. I didn't know what to tell them, I was still in shock and didn't know what had happened myself. I rushed beside the bed Harry lay on, following them until I was met by the strong long arms of an African security guard.

"You can't go in there." He said in protest.

"And why not?" I spat in disgust.

"That's surgery, the healer will be out to brief you momentarily, until then I request that you take a seat and clear your head."

The guard's voice sweet and smooth like caramel was calming in and of itself. I sat in a chair that sat in the farthest corner of the waiting room. It was a plush chair, but was worn uncomfortable by the countless people that had happened upon the same fate. I watched the clock on the wall opposite where I was sitting with angst, fear, and nervousness. I tried to calm down a bit more, as the hands of the clock wound themselves around in their circular path. I found myself staring at that same clock ten minutes later, according to the hands on the clock, until I heard footsteps approaching me. First reaction was to spring from my chair. As I stood to greet the approaching footsteps I notice the man was covered in what was presumably my husband's blood. At that moment my outlook changed, I now expected to hear of Harry's death instead of recovery or savior.

I listened carefully as the blood drenched man in front of me spoke, "He'll live. But there may be some complications."

"What?" I asked in a stuttered and slurred shock.

"He sustained a very nasty injury, the result of Sectumsempra, the assailant is unknown at this time."

"Wait. What was the spell?" I asked, having not being paying that much attention when the healer had told me.

"Sectumsempra. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing. I just haven't heard of that one in a long, long time."

Of course I remembered when Harry had used it on me our sixth-year in the bathroom, the effects had left scars all over my body, which have faded with time but are still present. Severus never told me what Harry had hit me with, claiming that I'd misuse that spell. I never pushed him for a definite answer, Harry had told me on the eve of our wedding what the spell was and I pieced it together with what injuries I'd remembered. Harry also claimed that he, Severus, and I were the only ones who knew that spell.

As the thought of Severus, you, and I are the only ones who know it, I was lost. Severus had been killed, by Voldermort, and there had been a service. And it was highly unlikely that Harry had inflicted this upon himself.

Who could have attacked my husband?

"Excuse me. May I see my husband's wand?" I asked the healer.

"You may not. It's been taken to the Ministry." He responded.

That was standard policy considering that Harry was an Auror. I hated to pull rank but I felt that I had to.

"You'll find that I have the credentials." I said, grabbing for my wallet where there was a card bearing the logo of the department for which I worked.

The healer looked at me in astonishment, as if he hadn't known who I was. I was waiting for him to say something, however, that did not happen until a few moments later when he decided to speak.

"There is nothing I can do, it's already been sent to the Ministry."

"Okay." I said, as I walked towards the door of the waiting room.

Stepping into the hall, I walked towards the front doors of the building. I disapparated, traveling to my office. I was greeted moments later by an empty room that was pitch black and warm. I waved my wand, restoring the lights to the room. I then walked out the door, into the hall that connected all of the other offices on this floor. I briskly walked to the wing of the building where Harry's wand should have been delivered. Pushing open the door, I walked in going to the receptionist desk.

"Hello, I'm h—e."

The redheaded girl sitting behind the desk cut in, "I know why you're here."


End file.
